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by psychedelia



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Earth-65, F/M, au of an already made au comic oh boy !, kingpin matt, punisher karen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelia/pseuds/psychedelia
Summary: Matt Murdock pays Karen Page a visit with an offer in hand and a bullet in his gut.





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokopellifacetattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokopellifacetattoo/gifts).



The first time he came to her, Karen knew he wasn’t switching sides. It was just some strange, strange infatuation and he was playing her, or worse, or-- 

Something, something devious that only a fucked up man like Matthew Murdock could come up with. 

But-- Something was different. 

It wasn’t the same cocky, cool, performative bastard she’d spoken to in the streets, trying to take him and his empire down piece by piece until there was nothing left and she could stick a solid piece of lead between his eyes and have it be  _ over _ . He was  _ close _ , there’s no taking the  _ murder _ out of  _ murderdock _ , but it was-- Off. 

Karen found him in her kitchen stitching himself up, fingers trembling over the sink as he pulled a bullet from his gut. His expression was emotionless, just minute twitches in his face and bare torso and fingers to indicate that he was hurting. 

She had a gun trained on him in seconds, but before she could even switch the safety off, he had his hands in the air, long fingers curling impetuously over themselves, blood dripping down his wrists. 

“I’m not here to hurt you, Miss Page,” He said, and there was a waver in his voice, something she’d never  _ heard _ before, not on the rooftops, not in the alleys, not in the courtroom tapes or any of the other Unfortunate places they’ve met over the past couple months. 

And curse her, she believed him. 

“Then why are you here? You’ve got five seconds before I shoot and just finish what we  _ know _ is gonna happen eventually.” There was a hitch in her voice that she  _ hated _ , the kind of fear response she’d tried hard to push down, erase, destroy with each press of a trigger, each explosion of blood. But he was in her  _ apartment _ , which meant he knew where she  _ lived _ , and logically she  _ knew _ that of course he’d know, he knows everything, literally fucking everything about this city, but it’s one thing to know that he could make a move, and another to see him, skinny and pale in the darkness of the apartment, droplets of blood from his side and hands making soft sounds as they hit the linoleum floor. 

There was a mask on the counter next to him, and he’d taken his shirt off. His torso was a latticework of scars, some still half-healing, and then a grisly bullet wound running jagged by his hip. Karen stepped closer, and saw the bloody bullet sitting at the bottom of the sink. 

Murdock pressed a wet cloth against his side, hissing through his teeth, and Karen’s expression twitched. He’d been here long enough to find her med kit, to find where she kept clean towels, to know his way around her  _ home _ . Her jaw felt tight. 

“Well?!” She demanded, jerking the gun in his direction more. 

“Well,” He said, and  _ oh _ , how she loathed his tone of voice. Always so lofty, so cold, so… Disgustingly charming. “I… removed… someone in this area. Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head; an awful atrocious man. You would have approved of his head being sliced clean off.” 

And there was the sword, sitting on the table, blood tacky and sticky and drying on the hilt. 

“But I got shot. I was in the neighborhood. And you were the closest place I could think of that would be… discrete. Plus, maybe I wanted to...  _ See _ you, again, Miss Page.” Matt Murdock’s smile was like the fucking Grinch’s, curling and curling and curling upwards like a terribly on the nose metaphor for a lack of any kind of soul.

“Get out,” She hissed, so livid she could hardly see. This was a breach of… Of everything. If he wanted to scare her, he was succeeding. If he wanted to threaten her, he was succeeding. She knew  _ knew _ it was only a matter of time before Matt Murdock knowing who she was would blow up in her face, but not now. Not while he looked skinny and weak in her kitchen with sunken cheeks and trembling hands.

“And send a bleeding blind man on the streets with no way of knowing how to get home?” He asked, mockingly offended. “How cruel. How cruel, the Punisher truly is.” 

“Murdock.” 

He sighed, running the cloth under the sink, the water turning red for a while before he pressed it back to his side to continue to put pressure on it. “Fine. I came here for a reason. I killed a man I know for a  _ fact _ you have been trying to kill tonight. Robinson. A murderer, a thief, an  _ everything _ , and you  _ know _ you could hit more targets if you had the knowledge I have. We are  _ not _ on opposite sides, Miss Page. Only sometimes. We often do the same work, you and I.” His voice was fast, quick, the persuasive tone he used in the courtrooms. At least he wasn’t leering over her like the crime boss he was.

She didn’t know it was possible for fear to crystallize into sharp glass, anger coursing through her veins. “You’re trying to hire me? As your  _ assassin _ ? I’m not you.”

Murdock barked out a harsh laugh, something cold and dagger-like. “I’m well aware you’re not me. For one, you’re rather handy with a scope. Craziest thing-- they’re all but useless to me.” 

There was something haunting about the way he spoke. Formal prose intermingled with abrupt, almost halting slang. Like he was constantly consciously aware of what he was saying. Like he was verbally writing a script. 

“I’m not working for you.” Karen replied flatly, and she realized that her fingernails were digging into the pulpy wood grain underneath the island counter. “Ever.” 

“Funny,” Murdock said as he pulled the washcloth from his side again and began to run it under the sink’s water again, the sound of the faucet turning on making Karen jump, “I could have sworn we’ve already worked together  _ twice _ . And now I’m offering you a paycheck for something you’re doing for  _ fun. _ ” 

“Stitch yourself up and  _ leave _ . If you think what I do is for fun, you’re an idiot.” But-- Was he? There was an exhilaration, an adrenaline rush that flowed through her when she did what did. The Karen Page sitting on a rooftop after scoping out a target for three hours and successfully landing a shot? That Karen Page was having fun, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

And Murdock knew that. Had been there, when she was in action, probably felt her damn heartbeat or whatever it is that demon  _ felt _ .

Murdock gave a casual shrug, but it was obviously practiced, obviously hiding tense frustration. “Fine. Just know that I could make your life… A lot, lot easier. A nicer apartment for starters. As well as new equipment, more rounded files… intel.

“Your intel is weighted down with blood.” 

He poured antiseptic on his side in response, and-- Fuck. Curse her. Curse her, but she went to the cabinet and pulled out a cheap bottle of whiskey and set it down on the counter next to the first aid kit, flicking her fingers against the glass of the bottle. Murdock grabbed it almost immediately, his face contorted just slightly from the pain of the antiseptic, unscrewing the cap with one hand and pressing his side with the other. 

She wasn’t an idiot. She got what he was doing the minute he turned to her and she saw his gut inflamed and bleeding. ‘In the neighborhood’ was all well and good until you remembered Murdock had the money and influence to hire a doctor who’d stay hush-hush easily. No, he wanted Karen to see him when he was weak, downtrodden,  _ hurt _ , trying to make himself look less threatening, less terrifying, more… human. 

But he wasn’t. A human, that is, and while his fingers twitching against his side suggested something approaching a person, the coldness of his face betrayed it all. 

“And what do you think the Punisher is?” Murdock asked, starting to unravel a roll of gauze and wrap it slowly around his side, his movements fluid and practiced. He’d clearly done this before. Murdock’s torso was long, slim, and as he arched and maneuvered his body to get the gauze around it, he belied a litheness that seemed as intrinsic to him as breathing.

In response, Karen just pulled away from the counter and dropped her bag on the couch, turning her back on the most dangerous man in New York. “Finish up, already. Tonight’s my only night to watch an hour of reality TV before I have to get to sleep.” 

Not that she’d be sleeping tonight. And the bravado was probably something Murdock could sniff right through, sniff right to the fear and paranoia blooming in her gut.

She watched from the corner of her eyes as he finished up wrapping himself, pulling the black shirt back over the wounds to cover himself up. He stepped closer to the table and grabbed his sword-cane, shoving the rest of the metal blade deep into its hilt. 

“As you wish, Miss Page. Good night. Think about my offer.” His smile was small and sullen, and Karen counted it at least partially like a victory. Or whatever it was she could keep from this interaction. 

And then he was gone, gone out the window, leaving Karen to press a hand to her mouth and breathe slowly slowly in and out like her support groups taught her, trying to clamp down the panic that threatened to erupt and consume her whole.

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is part of a bigger au and No i'm not posting that yet. anyways im sekwoja on tumblr and the person who writes this verse with me in our rps is pissdevil. salutations


End file.
